


the fools that dream

by electraheathens



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, Reddie - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, La La Land AU, M/M, Reddie, eddie is mia, richie is sebastian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-16 05:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electraheathens/pseuds/electraheathens
Summary: eddie kaspbrak is a struggling actor in los angeles, california. he keeps running into richie tozier, a brash and sarcastic jazz pianist. and no, he completely is not falling in love with him!





	1. another day of sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShigarakiChokeMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShigarakiChokeMe/gifts).



> i would recommend listening to the songs whenever i write the lyrics!! enjoy this au, la la land is one of my favorite movies and i just had to write it with reddie. fun fact: this whole thing was inspired by the fact that my choir is performing another day of sun for our next concert!

“And I swear to God, she was wrecked! It was pure insanity.”  
Eddie paused.  
“Insanity..,” he muttered. He leaned over and grabbed his script from the passenger seat.  
“Pure lunacy. Oh God, I know…”  
The traffic around Eddie started to move, and he was too focused on reading his lines to notice. A car horn sounded behind him, startling him. He jumped, startled back to reality. The car who honked at Eddie swerved into the lane next to him. A man with dark curly hair and glasses was sitting a 1983 Dodge Rivera. Jazz music drifted from his car’s radio in through Eddie’s open windows. Annoyed about the honking, Eddie gave the man the finger and drove away.

“This doesn’t taste like almond milk,” a customer said, slamming her drink onto the counter.  
“Oh, don’t worry, it is,” Eddie assured the woman.  
“Can I see the carton?”  
Rolling his eyes when the woman couldn’t see, Eddie grabbed the carton and showed it to the customer.  
“I’ll just have a black coffee,” the customer decided.  
Eddie began to make the coffee. He sneaked a few looks at his script under the counter before giving the woman her coffee. He has prepared so hard for this role. He’s sick of working in this coffee shop, when he could be out starring in a movie. Even after six long years of hearing “no” in LA, he still had hope for his dream.  
The bell on the door jingled, announcing that a new customer had come in. All eyes immediately fall on this woman. The room was suddenly silent, and the only thing that could be heard were customers whispering to each other.  
“Cappuccino, please,” the woman told Eddie. He nodded and headed to make it for her. As soon as he was finished, his manager took it out of his hand.  
“On the house,” he said, handing it to the lady.  
“No, I insist,” the woman said, smiling. She paid, dropping a tip into the jar, and left the shop with another jingle of the bell.  
The woman got into a cart marked with the words “Studio Employee.” The coffee shop was on a studio lot, which made Eddie feel even worse. He could be working on that same movie or tv show that woman was if he could just get a role!  
Eddie’s phone rang, a call from his mother. He rolled his eyes. His overprotective mother had not supported his decision to move to LA to become an actor. He quickly pressed ignore and glanced at the time. 4:07 P.M.  
“Shit!” Eddie exclaimed. He hurriedly removed his apron and was about to leave the store, when his manager stopped him.  
“Where are you going?”  
“It’s five past…” Eddie trailed off.  
His manager sighed. “Be here early tomorrow, okay?”  
Eddie nodded, and rushes to grab his script. As he was doing so, he crashed into a table, spilling coffee and food over his shirt.  
“As if this day couldn’t get any worse,” he muttered, getting off the floor. He took his script and dashed out the door, covering his stained shirt with a large jacket.

Eddie stood in a room, in front of the casting directors. His heart was beating so fast, he swore that everyone around him could hear it pounding.  
“And I swear to God, she was wrecked! It was pure lunacy. Oh God, I know…”  
His nerves were very noticeable, and he cringed internally at how fake he sounded.  
“No, no, Turner’s fine. So are you—are you waiting waiting until Denver to tell her?”  
His smile got smaller as he kept delivering lines.  
“Oh. I see…”  
He clenched his jaw, feeling uncomfortable at how the casting directors were staring at him so judgmentally.  
“No, you’re right...I understand.”  
A tear slipped down his cheek.  
“Okay...I just...Oh…”  
An assistant knocked on the glass on the door.  
“Hey! Can I come in?”  
Eddie, unsure of what to do, kept crying and delivering the lines.  
“No, I’m happy for you, I—I just—“  
“One second.” the casting director interrupted.  
Eddie stopped. The casting director let the assistant in, and they talked in hushed voices. Eddie stood awkwardly, trying to hold onto the emotion and tears.  
“I’ll call her back,” the casting director said. “I’m almost done in here, tell her that.”  
The assistant nodded and walked out.  
The director turned back to Eddie.  
“You know, I think we’re done here. Thanks for coming in.”  
Eddie’s heart sank at those words, and left the room feeling dejected as ever. On the way out, he passed many other brunet men. His nerves were still on edge, adrenaline from the audition still running through his veins. 


	2. someone in the crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eddie's friends take him out to a party, and he spots a familiar face at a restaurant.

Eddie entered his apartment, feeling drained. He headed to his room. He stared at the movie posters that scattered his walls. Many famous stars were plastered all over the room.

He made his way to the bathroom, ready to take a shower and get an early night. Fog filled the room as the water heated up.

He wrapped a towel around himself, and went to the mirror. He wiped some of the mist on the mirror away and stared at his reflection, admiring the way the fog twirled around him, making it look like he was in an old Hollywood close-up.

The door banged open, breaking the spell.

“Holy crap!” Stan exclaimed, the fog enveloping him.

Snapping out of it, Eddie turned to look at his friend.

“Ever heard of a vent?” he asked dryly.

“I wanted to give you an entrance,” Eddie shot back.

Mike stood behind Stan, shoving Cheetos into his mouth.

“Hey, Eddie. How’d it go?”

“Not very well…”

“Was Henry there? Or Patrick?” Mike asked.

“I don’t know Henry or Patrick.”

“They’re the worst.”

“I have no idea if they were even there,” Eddie admitted, slipping out of the room.

Bill stuck his head into the bathroom.

“Why is there a convention going on in here?”

“We have to be out in two minutes!” Stan said. “Eddie, you’re coming, right?”

Eddie poked his head out of his room.

“I can’t. I’m working.”

“What?” Stan asked. “Did he just say he’s working?”

Eddie leaned against his door, sighing. He was too tired to have a night on the town.

Stan started to pound on his door.

“Yes?” Eddie said tiredly, opening the door.

“Look, I know things didn’t go well today. But right now—you’re coming.”

He barged into Eddie’s room and rummaged through his closet.

“It’ll be fun!” Stan continued.

“It’ll be social climbers packed into fancy glass houses,” Eddie retorted.

“Yeah!” Stan replied. “Fun!”

He pulled out a blue suit.

“Come on, Eddie!” Mike said, skipping into the room. “When else do you get to see every Hollywood cliché crammed into one house? We can make fun of it together!”

“Mike, I’m disappointed!” Stan scoffed, pretending to be offended. There is nothing to joke around about, this party will be humanity at its finest!”

“A little chance encounter could be the one you’ve waited for,” Stan said.

“Someone in the crowd could be the one you need to know!” Mike added.

“Do what you need to do ‘til they discover you,” Bill chimed in.

“I think I’ll stay behind,” Eddie said, backing away. “Is someone in the crowd the only thing you really see? Somewhere there’s a place where I find who I’m gonna be. A somewhere that’s just waiting to be found.”

“Just come with us!” Stan pleaded. “Even if you don’t find someone, we should spend some time together.”

Eddie stayed reluctant, and let his friends leave without him. He started to wonder...what was better? A night at home, moping around and feeling sorry for himself, or a night out with his friends. Cursing under his breath for making the decision so late, he pulled on the suit and ran out to follow his friends.

Bill, Stan, and Mike were walking down the street, talking and laughing. Eddie ran up behind them. They all stared at him in surprise, which then turned into delight.

“I knew you’d come in the end!” Mike said.

They all hurried to their car, and started their drive to the party.

 

The four friends hopped from bar to bar until they finally ended up at a house. Eddie sat on a couch outside, mingling with strangers and feeling slightly uncomfortable. His friends had all split up and were in different parts of the house. Eventually, he decided to get up and walk around. There was nothing for him here anyway. Fireworks exploded in the sky, mixing with the loud noises of talking, laughing, and music. Eddie ignored them, along with all the dancing couples around him. He walked back to where he parked his car. It was nowhere to be seen. A sign on the street read “NO PARKING ANYTIME. TOW-AWAY ZONE” in bold letters.

“No…,” Eddie murmured. He felt his stomach drop in panic. He reached into his pocket to grab his phone, only to find that it was dead.

“No…,” he repeated, dread settling into his system. He stared up and down the road, the pavement dimly lit by street lights littering the sidewalk. What on Earth was he to do now?

He had no choice but to trudge down the hill, and walk the hour and a half long trip back to his house. He was making his way home when he heard it. A piano in the distance, playing a soft melody. He was immediately drawn to the sound. He slowly turned around to find the source of the beautiful song. He opened the door to find himself in a restaurant and bar. The music was louder, and he kept searching for the source. Then—Eddie spotted the man. He faintly remembered the honk of a car horn, and was taken back to his time in traffic. It was the same man who had swerved past him!

 

_earlier that day…_

 

Richie rolled his eyes. People in LA didn’t know shit about driving. He honked his horn at the person in the car in front of him. When they didn’t move, he swerved past them. The man in the car flipped him the bird. Richie shook his head and continued driving. He stopped at a gas station/diner and grabbed a cup of coffee. He then went to sit outside in the warm sun, staring past a large billboard next to the seating area. He peered at two men, exiting a building with the sign “Van Beek” and the neon words “Tapas and Tunes” written in a looping script below it. He turned away and continued to sip his coffee.

 

Richie returned to his cramped apartment. The walls were bare, and there was little furniture. He hasn’t finished unpacking, either. Boxes filled with old photos and instruments were strung across the floor. He swung the door open, and jumped when he realized he wasn’t alone. He spotted his long time friend, Beverly Marsh, in his kitchen. He placed his hands on his hips.

“Please stop sneaking into my home.”

Beverly scoffed. “Nobody would call this a home.”

She sat on a stained stool, a cigarette hanging between her lips.

“Please don’t sit on that,” Richie said, slightly exasperated.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am! Hoagy Carmichael sat on that stool! The Baked Potato was gonna throw it away.”

“I wonder why,” Bev said sarcastically.

She stood up and pulled a rolled up object from the curtains.

“I got you a throw rug.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Oh, yeah? What if I told you Miles Davis pissed on it?” Beverly joked, spreading it across the floor.

“That’s almost insulting.” Richie paused. “But did he?”

She shook her head. “Unbelievable. So, when are you gonna get around to unpacking these boxes?”

“When I unpack them in my own club.”

“Oh, my God. Richie, it’s like a girl broke up with you and you’ve been stalking her. I support you, but...you’re not still going by there, are you?”

“No…,” Richie lied. “But they’ve turned it into some tapas-samba thing! Can you believe that?”

“Richie—” Beverly started.

“Who the hell wants to tapas while they samba?”

“I have someone I want you to meet.”

“I don’t want to meet anyone,” Richie protested.

“You’ll like them,” Beverly assured him.

“Uh huh,” Richie replied doubtfully. “Do they like jazz?”

“Probably not.”

“Then what are we supposed to talk about?”

“The weather. Does it even matter? Rich, you’re living like a hermit!” She blew out some smoke.

“I’m 99 percent sure smoking isn’t allowed in this building,” Richie pointed out.

“I don’t care, and you smoke just as much as me. Stop trying to change the topic! You need to get serious.”

“I _am_ serious! I had a very serious plan for my future. It’s not my fault I got—I got _Shanghaied_!”     

“You did not get “Shanghaied,” you got ripped off!”

“There’s a difference?” Richie asked, staring at Beverly as she walked back into the kitchen.

“I dunno, but it’s not as romantic as that.”

Beverly pulled down the stool again and sat on it.

“Please don’t sit—”

“Everyone knew that guy was shady, except for you.”

Richie followed her into his tiny kitchen.

“Why do you say romantic as if...as if it’s a dirty word?” he questioned.

“Unpaid bills aren’t romantic.”

She scribbled on a piece of paper and slid it over to him. “Call them.”

She started to head to the door. Richie followed her, not ready to give up yet.

“You’re acting like life’s got me up on the ropes or somethin’, but what you don’t understand is, I want to be on the ropes. I’m letting life hit me until it’s tired. Then I’ll make my move. It’s a classic rope-a -dope!”

Beverly laughed despite herself. Richie always knew how to crack anyone up. She stopped right in the doorway, and turned to him.

“You know I care about you. Unpack your boxes.”

“I’m changing my locks so you can’t get in.”

“You can’t afford it,” Beverly said as she cheekily blew a kiss. She began to walk away.

“I’m a phoenix rising from the ashes, Bev!” he called.

She was already gone, and didn’t reply. He sighed and shut the door. Taking one look at the napkin, he tossed it in the trash. After taking a slice of pizza from the fridge, pouring himself another cup of coffee (he lives off of that stuff), and placing a Thelonious Monk LP into his record player, he settled down at the piano. Richie rewound the record multiple times, replaying one spot and repeating it on the piano.


	3. eddie and richie's theme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> richie gets fired from his job, and eddie has a rather rude first encounter with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao idk why i made the annoying dude georgie.

Later, Richie returned to the restaurant he worked at as a pianist. The building was donned with Christmas decorations. He had been so sure he would get fired for playing the pieces he wanted to, and not the ones his douchebag boss, Will, wanted him to. But, to his surprise, his manager decided to let him stay. He strolled into the restaurant, and spotted his boss across the room. He flashed his best fake smile as he beelined towards him. 

“Will! Thanks for having me back.”

“You’re welcome,” his boss replied, sounding slightly wary. “Just stick to the setlist.”

“Of course.” Lowering his voice, Richie added, “Though I don’t think they care what I play.”

“Well, I do. I don’t want to hear the jazz.”

“Right, okay. Although I thought that in this town it worked in a one for you, one for me system?”

His boss glared at him, and Richie shrunk back a little bit, laughing nervously.

“Or all for you, none for me?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” his boss replied. 

“Mm-hm. Mutual decision.”

“Made by me,” Will added. 

“Right…and I sign off on it, so…”

“Whatever. Tell yourself that.”

Will walked away, leaving Richie sat by himself at the piano. A waitress walked by, balancing a teetering tray in her hand. 

“Welcome back,” she called as she passed by. 

“There’s a nice way to say that, Karen,” he muttered. 

He sighed and began to play a fast paced Christmas carol, hating every second of it. The piano blended into the sound of talking mixed with clinking plates and glasses. A man walked by and dropped some cash into the tip jar as Richie finished the song. He scanned the room, checking to see if his boss was nearby. He was nowhere in sight. Shaking his head, he began another Christmas song. As his hands flew across the keyboard, the song drifted from a jolly holiday tune to a soft, melodic jazz piece. Richie felt like everything around him faded into hshblack. The talking became a dim buzz in the back of his mind. It was just him and the piano. He paused for a second, before resuming playing, his hands finding the keys like he was born to do this. As the piece went on, he crescendoed, increasing the volume. He sped up, really getting into the piece, his hands zooming up and down the keys. As he played his last staccato chord, he jumped up from his seat as emphasis. Then, he finally was brought back to reality and realized where he actually was. Richie was too busy being lost in his own thoughts to notice the brown haired man staring at him from across the room. He looks up, and catches the other man’s eyes for just a second.

“Richard,” Will’s stern voice called. 

Richie turned around, and Will beckoned him over. 

The brunette kept watching Richie, who currently was in trouble with his boss.

“I hear―I hear what you’re saying,” Richie  stammered. “But I don’t think you’re saying what you mean.”

“Yeah, and I don’t think you hear what  _ I’m  _ saying. You’re fired.”

“That’s what you’re  _ saying _ , but it’s not what you mean. What you mean is―”

“You’re fired,” his boss finished.

Richie took a deep breath and nodded. 

“I’ll play the setlist.” 

“No...I’m saying it’s too late.”

“It’s a warning.”

The manager was looking more pissed off by the second. “What planet are you from?”

“Don’t fire me, Will” Richie pleaded quietly. “Don’t fire me.”

“I’m sorry, Richard.” 

“It’s Christmas,” he practically whispered.

“Yeah, I see the decorations. Good luck in the new year.”

And with that, his (former) boss walked away. 

Richie turned his head and spotted the man across the room, still looking at him with a curious gaze. 

 

Eddie walked towards the raven haired man as he began to gather up his belongings. 

“I just heard you play” he started. “and I wanted to say―”

He was cut off as the man slammed against his shoulder as he briskly walked by. 

Eddie slowly spun around to look at the man’s receeding figure. He laughed in disbelief. 

 

Eddie stood in a bright yellow audition room, dressed in a nurse’s outfit.

“I don’t like the fissure on the GT scan,” he said, gripping the papers in his hands. He had done so many auditions but they never failed to make him nervous. He prayed he wouldn’t have an asthma attack. “Did you test for achromatopsia?” 

 

“DOA on 23rd! Perp laughin’ his freaking face off at the PD,” Eddie said into a fake walkie talkie. “Damn Miranda rights.” 

 

“This is my classroom. You don’t like it, the door is to my left.”

“Man, why you be tripping like that?” one of the casting directors read from the script.

“No, Jamal,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “ _ You _ be tripping.”

  
  


_ spring time: _

Eddie was at a party, the warm California sun beating down on all the swim suit clad people. People swam around the pool, drank, talked, or listened to the bad cover band playing 

Stan waved Eddie over. 

“There you are! You need to meet someone. Georgie, this is Eddie. Eddie, Georgie’s a writer.”

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” Georgie said.

“He’s got projects all over town!” Stan exclaimed. 

Georgie pretended to be modest, shrugging slightly. “They say I’m good at world-building. I’m really heating up, you know. The buzz around me is really growing―”

“Cool, I’m, uh, gonna go grab a drink…”

Eddie took the chance to slip away. He pressed through the crowds to get to the bar. 

The obnoxious cover of  _ Take Me On  _ got louder as Eddie looked at the drinks. He peered towards the band to get a better.

And then he saw  _ him _ . The pianist from the restaurant. A keyboard-guitar was slung around his shoulder, and he was tapping out chords on a keyboard. He was dressed in a bright suit, like the rest of his bandmates. He looked like he hated every second of it. 

“Alright, one more for you guys before we break. Any requests, y’all?” the singer asked the sparse crowd.

Eddie raised his hand, smiling mischeviously. 

“Guy in the front,” the singer said, pointing to him. 

“ _ I Ran _ .”

“ _ I Ran. Fantastic suggestion. _ ”

Richie looked back and forth, from the singer to Eddie.

“All right, Piano Man, tickle those ivories. Let’s hit it! A one, two, three four!”

Richie looked around in confusion, shooting a dirty look at Eddie. Reluctantly, he began to play the keyboard-guitar. 

Eddie began to sway back and forth, not breaking eye contact with Richie. 

“ _ I walk along the avenue. I never thought I'd meet a girl like you. Meet a girl like you. _ ” 

_Me?_ Eddie mouthed at Richie. He scoffed. _Stop!_ _  
_ “ _With auburn hair and tawny eyes. The kind of eyes that hypnotize me through. You hypnotize me through.”_

Eddie was now doing silly dance moves, not caring what anyone around him thought. He was enjoying teasing the keyboard player.

“ _ I ran, I ran so far away, _ ” he lipsynced to the song. “ _ I couldn’t get away.”  _

Eddie flashed him a toothy grin and walked away. Richie watched him, and flashed a fake smile at his bandmates. (Damn, he was getting good at those smiles.)

_ Tainted Love  _ blared through the outdoor area as Richie looked for that obnoxious brown haired man that was, for some odd reason, everywhere he went. He was starting to wonder if he had a stalker. He took a drag from his cigarette. It was especially cruel of the said stalker to make him play  _ I Ran _ . How dare he! and kept searching. It wasn’t long before he saw the man, leaning against a wall and sipping out of a can. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it into a nearby trashcan. 

“All right, I remember you. And I’ll admit I was a little curt that night.” 

“Curt?” Eddie repeated, raising an eyebrow. 

“Okay, I was an asshole. I can admit that,” Richie agreed. “But requesting  _ I Ran _ from a serious musician? That’s too far!”

“Oh, my lord. Did you just say ‘a serious musician’?” Eddie asked, smiling.

“I don’t think so.” Richie straightened his thick rimmed glasses.

“Can I borrow what you’re wearing?”

“Why?”

“Because, I have an audition next week.” Eddie smirked. “I’m playing a ‘serious’ firefighter.” 

“Ah, so you’re an actor. I thought you looked familar, have I seen you in anything?”

“Uh, coffee shop on the Warner Brother’s lot. That’s a classic.”

“You’re a barista, then. Well, now I can completely see how you can look down on me from all the way up there.” 

The singer of the band popped in from nowhere. “Richie! It’s second set.” He then returned to wherever he had come from.

“Fuck,” Richie groaned. “I hate this. He doesn’t tell me what to do.”

“He literally just told you what to do.”

“I let him.”

“Before I go, what’s your name?” Richie asked.

“Eddie.”

“Eddie, huh. I guess I’ll be seeing you in the movies.”

He started to return to his bandmates when Eddie called him.

“Richie?”

He turned around to look at Eddie with a quzzical look. 

“You should cut down on the smoking. It’s not good for your lungs.”

Richie gave him the hint of a smile. “I’ll think about it.”


End file.
